She comes in—tanned, tight jeans, bleach-blond hair down the back, blue eyes and too much makeup—

with a baby on her hip. And I’d decided already what this poem was going to be about, when she

sits down across from what looks to be her father and begins to sign with her one free hand. He smiles

and signs back—hands rolling effusively, lips moving in a soundless poetry. Their gazes trade loves back and forth.

The baby’s eyes glow in the wave and trickle of mom’s fingers that must look like birds close enough to touch.

And the trusses of my preconceptions begin to buckle. The edges of prejudice begin to crumble like dry toast…

and…

I want to go over and apologize, but I don’t know the sign for that.

I have made a mistake.

--Nathan Brown

Riverside Drive

riverside not that city in southern cal where auntie diz, fran, teddy, and lucha live

riverside where this side’s the road that side’s the river

right there past the ditch beyond the cottonwoods

río grande beach closer than tingley río grande gentler than the pacific that i grew up visiting on field trips

it’s 8 am on a thursday i drive to work take the 25 MPH sign seriously and go 20 cars zoom ‘round me and speed over each road hump

i join the chase scare the chickens at the corner of hardy

i pass the church that was St. Luke Baptist the new banner with its new name flaps like the chicken wings flutter

faded buildings sprinkle plots of land walls at half-staff salute each driver

an oncoming car approaches flashes lights in morning sun

i press pedal harder

car flips brights again

dude passes and nods cholo-style the way my college friends teased me

Cathy doesn’t say hi with her mouth She says hi with her head

i check the rearview and wonder if trouble is coming sure enough

sheriff rounds the corner then i understand and continue my ride

i want to pick up one of the beer bottles from the side of the road fill it chill it hand it to my savior and return the nod

i turn right on la vega right on cesar chavez crawl up the bridge

fallen branches stick out sand swallows the mighty Río Grande that sat in my imagination through geography and history in west coast classrooms

during occasional calls my family always asks what’s it like out there? i tell ‘em

good people beautiful land

when i return home in a few years i’ll go to my bay or ocean probably just dolores park with its rows of flat, porcelain troughs and sputtering sprinklers

i’ll sit at the top of the hill with the best view of my city gaze at the bridge in the distance and remember this river on the side of this road this road by the side of this river these people who made me feel even if for just a little while i could call another place home

Two wonderful poems, one from Cathy whose work I know and love, the other from Nathan Brown whose work I will now seek out and read. Duende is fortunate to have this duo this afternoon--and they are fortunate to be reading in one of our best poetry venues. An interesting pairing of poems, this, in which double-takes of perception lead the reader in unexpected directions. Ditchrider has done it again!

I don't know when I've enjoyed back-to-back poems so much for a variety of reasons. First, it seems an inordinate number are set on my own stomping grounds, as is Cathy Arellano's today. I grew up on Bonita Rd. (an unlikely name for it),just off La Vega, off Riverside, and exchanged the same cholo head nod greetings accompanied often with a two-note lip whistle, although the term "cholo" was not much in fashion then. But it wasn't merely, the setting -- it was the perfect description of it.including the interplay between vehicle drivers and the sheriff' on the prowl. Just a great poem as is Nathan Brown's. transformational piece with its eye-catching, bawdy opening that runs the emotional gamut in seven short stanzas. Thanks to both and Ditch Rider.

"the edges of prejudice/ begin to crumble like dry toast" . . . thanks for the hopeful lines, nathan, and look forward to hearing you . . . cathy thanks: "even if for just a little while/ i could call another place home" . . . oh dear friends and acquaintances, welcome to all and remember, time change today!

Cathy, I always love seeing through your eyes, hearing through your ears, getting a flash of a thought or two in your thoughtful head. hanks--I love San Francisco--my gramps was born there, my ma, and me in San Mateo--we from there